


Spice

by Hecatetheviolet



Series: Everything Nice [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul: Re - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Touka, Black Reaper Arc, Black Reaper Kaneki Ken, Cultural Differences, F/F, Ghoul Society, Multi, Re:, Reunions, Touka Swears A Lot, Touka centric, companion to Sugar, ghoul culture, identity exploration, re: Touka, sexuality exploration, the implications of touka being human passing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecatetheviolet/pseuds/Hecatetheviolet
Summary: Where there is fire, there is smoke.





	Spice

Kirishima Touka has always been jealous of girls who could wear heels.

 

They always looked so elegant - long legs made longer, small steps made daintier, impish skirts made daring - and Touka was helpless to do anything but admire them from afar. She'd gazed at high heels in shops: tiny kitten heels in sensible black patent leather, enormous stilettos with more personality in their plastic than half of the patrons in the store, black platforms with spikes and skulls and tiny roses. Open sandals with thin gold straps and clear lucite heels. Pink pumps. Silver open toed slip-ons. Red, red stilettos.

 

Her sneaker purchases felt like some kind of self imposed punishment. And she was always at this damn shoe store, too. The human clerk seemed to be looking at her with pity when they greeted her with the usual genial commentary for _the girl who worked so hard she wore out her shoes_. A pair of suede heels in a tender robin's egg blue with wide, sensible two inch heels mocked Touka from the display behind the counter while she faked her best human-smile and accepted the honor of _best customer_. Again.

 

 It was a dangerous game to be known and recognizable in a single area, but it was important for her to blend in with the rest of her local community. That was what humans did, after all. It was almost useless in comparison to the networking she was intimately familiar with as a ghoul - knowing the names and faces of your closest neighbors was only half the package. Knowing their appetite, hunting preferences, kagune type, and fighting prowess was the ultimate goal of _familiarity_ with nearby ghouls. When the more powerful ones disappeared it was time to move, or gamble in starvation to convince the CCG that they had been the only ghoul in the area. When the binge eaters caused a scene it was time to run. _Know your neighbors. Don't call attention to yourself or others. Know your resources. Be safe. Network. Be safe._

 

Touka could appreciate just how fucking lucky she had been in the past - how much she owed her life to Yoshimura. They'd known the only licensed, practicing doctor within the nearest five wards for fucks sake! The One Eyed Owl had directly claimed her as kin! She'd gone to _school!_ She could read and write and had several teachers who would still vouch for her in references if she needed such things. Touka had humans _and_ ghouls who were willing to help her - both sides had supported her when she was young and bitter and naive.

 

But now her precious net was torn full of irreparable holes. She'd fallen back into something safe as it combusted around her, but it would never be the same. And now, surrounded by humans, a second net was being woven, carefully dyed in harmless shades and eased into place with a carefully cultivated patience.

 

But those _humans_. They wanted to be _close_ , they want to be _friends_ with her, they wanted to come closer - get in her shop, in her home, in her territory, in her space and in her life - and for _what_? A mockery of the safety netting she'd had beaten into her skull since birth. An empty hand full of empty promises, poised to shake hers in welcome. They wanted companionship, not mutual protection. They wanted to know her as a person, not as a bastion of the ward. They saw more value in her business model and management skills than in her fighting prowess and kagune. They wanted to know her blood type for personality tests, not her RC type for kill identification. They wanted to go shopping, not hunting. They wanted to shake her hand, not rip it off.

 

And Touka fucking loved it. Ate up every scrap of it like she was starving.

 

Is this what life was like for them? So completely peaceful and sedentary and safe? She felt no shame in wanting those things. She felt no shame in reaching for them with her own desperate, bloodstained hands.

 

Although she'd nearly fallen through her familiar netting, she'd gotten back up on her own two feet and supported herself - as a ghoul among humans. As a normal, human cafe manager among fellows. As a young woman in Tokyo. She'd learn to weave her own network and use it to her advantage. She was supported. She was loved.

 

The only downside to her new, stable life was how other ghouls tended to react to a human-integrated ghoul.

 

The older woman ( _Minako, bikaku, territory on the second alley off of 3rd Street_ ) caring for her two grandchildren ( _Hereditary bikakus, Haru and Mamo_ ) always thanked Touka when she wrote on the receipts about high dove patrol areas and newly claimed territories to avoid. That was more than fine, and Touka appreciated their patronage and enjoyed acting as a social anchor for them, being part of their net. It was a good feeling, to be in a powerful position, and to be able to support other ghouls. She honestly cared about the ghouls who came to her shop, who drank her coffee, who slipped her tips and behaved themselves when the rare dove opened the door. Those ghouls were fine, great even, compared to the one following her as she took a winding route home from the shoe store, single package in hand.

 

Touka glanced up at a traffic mirror as she waited at a corner for a signal change. Dark hoodie, plain jeans, nothing immediately identifiable. Openly suspicious during daylight hours, though - the easiest way be noticed was to to be in public while desperately trying to escape notice. Who hides behind building corners in the shadows at 4pm on a Tuesday besides miscreants? _Honestly_. He was going to be picked up by city police if he wasn't more subtle. Especially since he was doing such a poor job of following her. Humans had the sensibilities of a prey animal and disliked that sort of thing immensely - tracking them made them nervous and their group-herding made them lash out at any hint of such behavior.

 

Touka paused at the entrance to an alley way ( _4th alley off of 8th Street, sharp curve, deadend_ ) then quickly cut in, dashing to the very end before the dumpsters. Bracing herself, she leapt to the roof of the office building on her left, ducking out of sight of the alley below.

 

Her untalented follower ran in, pausing close enough to the entrance to back out easily, and scanned the area. He did not look up.

 

A moment passed in perfect stillness - Touka perched above and him crouched below, both poised to strike - before he straightened up and left the way he'd come. A younger Touka would have fought him. An even younger Touka would have killed him. A mature Touka didn't want to deal with needless violence so close to her territory, so close to her shop, in the ward she was ensuring remained _peaceful. She would let him live. For now._

 

Touka sighed and relaxed, lounging back on the rooftop as she took off her shoes and examined them. Her jump had punctured a large piece of glass through the sole of her left shoe. She wedged it out and bent the sneaker back carefully, checking the damage. The shoe itself stayed together, but wouldn't be waterproof anymore - with Tokyo's weather lately, she'd really need that to ensure she always had good traction.

 

She tied the laces of her old shoes together and flung them into the dumpster below, alongside the packaging for her new ones. The plan _had been_ to wear those ones for another few weeks - good running shoes were expensive and even with her modest income it bordered on annoying to keep having to replace them this way. _Shit_. Her networking better pay off and ID that guy for her - he owed her a pair of shoes, if he expected to remain in this ward.

 

Touka stared at her clean, stiff sneakers. The bridge and ankle support, the thick grip, the heavy cloth bodies, the sturdy lacing - they were nothing like the cute heels in the window displays. Cute little heels snapped with stress. Cute little heels broke under pressure. Cute little heels slipped and twisted ankles and altered her sense of balance. They halved the strength of her kicks, changed her stance, put her in danger.

 

Touka couldn't wear heels. She was - _had been_ \- Rabbit; she needed to run and jump and _fucking fly_ and heels wouldn't let her do that.

 

Reality wasn't reflected in the manga she read - the heroines and fighters and superpowered lolitas who danced and fought and killed in beautiful high heels _didn't exist._ Couldn't exist. Only nice little human girls who walked slowly and didn't need to think of fighting and killing and running for their lives were allowed to wear high heels.

 

They didn't make heels for ghouls. Humans didn't make any cute little heels for Touka. She barely existed to them; and even when she did exist to them, they didn't think of her as a creature who would want to be able to wear heels.

 

A ghoul like her couldn't afford to have such a luxury item - not even human-Touka, with her apron and her smile, could wear them. Supportive flats were the closest she could dare to come, so human-Touka got to wear those, _but_. It wasn't the same.

 

It never would be. Human-Touka could look down at her not-heels, not-sneakers and remember why she was smiling for those humans, why she was trying so hard for them, why she welcomed them in her shop.

 

 She was lucky enough to be able to lament not wearing heels. That was one of her biggest complaints. She had a solid identity, a house, her own business, stability, friends, _fuck_ , Touka had it made. She had what every ghoul wanted and died for. Humans had high heels. It was a sick trade off, but it kept her balanced. Sure, her parents, friends and almost her entire network had gone up in flames, but she'd lived. She moved on.

 

Touka did not wear heels, even though her life was _fucking easy_ , and she moved on.

 

She broke in her new shoes with the sunset at her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
> Different narrative voices are fun to write. I missed being able to curse casually - thanks queen for letting me do that. The differences between the internalizing Black Reaper and the externally focused Re: Touka are just *chef kisses fingers* iconic. It's a good pair up, even outside romance.


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